


Warm Hands, Soft Palms.

by ThePrincePeach



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrincePeach/pseuds/ThePrincePeach
Summary: Henry's hands are getting aches, Joey has a solution.
Relationships: Joey Drew/Henry Stein
Kudos: 9





	Warm Hands, Soft Palms.

Henry winced as he dropped the pen in hand, pulling away with a sigh. He had been working too hard. His hands, his most valuable asset in a world like this, hurt all to the dickens. For a moment, he feared the idea of carpal tunnel, the mere thought making him shudder and move his hand down to hold his wrist. His fingers curled and uncurled slowly as the soreness set in. He sighed as he leaned back in the chair. He’d take a break, he decided with a nod. He held the side of his hand and used his thumb to massage his palm. 

“Henry?” 

He perked up and looked back over his shoulder, smiling when he noticed Joey standing at the entryway to his corner office-space. Was it really an office? To Henry, it was a desk and a cut out shoved off into the corner of a side room. Sometimes, he felt like a toy left to mingle with the dust bunnies in an office space like this. Other times, he felt glad to be away from everyone and the noise. No one bothered him when he was so far away. Then again, a visitor would be nice every now and again. Joey, unsurprisingly, seemed to be that visitor. Henry relaxed as Joey flashed him a smile. 

“Henry?” Joey repeated as he stepped closer, “How’s the lining going? Normally, you would have been done about an hour or so ago. What’s going on?” Henry, sighing again, shook his head and looked back to the paper as Joey came close enough to hold the artist’s shoulder. The older man noticed the younger holding his hands and raised a brow. His tone turned quiet, worried, “Is something wrong with your hands, baby-blue?” 

“Oh, uh, I’m fine,” Henry chuckled as he released his hands, picking the pen back up, “I’ll get back to it. Sorry for the wait, Joey.” The man didn’t seem convinced as he watched Henry’s hand begin to gently shake as he held the pen. He could barely keep it still. The younger winced but bit down on his lip to keep from showing the struggle he was in. 

“Just fine, huh?” The man chuckled. Henry gave in and dropped the pen again, huffing as he held his wrist again. Joey moved behind him, holding his shoulders, beginning to rub them slowly. Henry relaxed against it with a relieved sigh. “What’s going on? Working too hard or hardly working?”

“Both, really. My, my hand hurt is all. I’m getting worried it’s something else wrong.” Henry finally admitted, still rubbing his wrist. 

“What else could it be?” Joey frowned as he leaned against the back of Henry’s chair, “Do you need to go to the nurse?” Henry smiled and shook his head, waving his hand off in dismissal before wincing and holding it again. Joey watched for a moment longer before smiling again and pulling the artist’s chair around to the side. Henry, willingly, was pulled along with it. “Here, give me your hands, I read about this in the paper.” 

Henry’s hands were small and slender, Joey liked to think they were feminine. Covered in freckles and a random smudge of ink over the thumb. A writer’s bump being the only blemish, Joey deemed. Joey’s hands were stronger, a bit larger, and much warmer. He easily held both of Henry’s hands in his own, Henry giggling at his own bashfulness at the action. The older man chuckled and leaned against the desk to keep holding them. 

“What are you doing?” The younger smiled as his freckled cheeks turned pink. “Someone could walk in…” No one ever did other than Joey. 

“I am not sure what you’re talking about, Mr Stein, I am simply helping my worker relieve the pain in his hands.” Joey smiled, stealing a glance at the doorway before looking back down at the flustered Henry. The younger melted against his touch, against his warmth, against his love. “Your hands are too cold, that must be why they keep hurting. It’s not even that cold in here. How do you manage that, Stein?” Henry laughed quietly as he turned his head away, unable to cover his mouth as he normally did. Joey leaned down and took the opportunity to press a kiss against his cheek, making Henry blush darker and continue to giggle out. 

“Mr Drew,” Henry smiled up at him, giving him a playful nudge with his knee, “What newspaper taught you that?”

Joey let out a laugh of his own and pulled his hands open, showing Henry’s palms upwards. He replied, cheekily, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He held Henry’s hands and smiled as he began to massage the artist’s palms with his thumbs, getting a relieved sigh from him. Henry watched for a minute or so before smiling, yet again, and looking away. “Oh, what now? Why do you keep getting so flustered? I’m barely doing anything.” 

“It tickles.” 

Joey paused, brows raised, a look of surprise flashing over his eyes before he looked down at his hands, then back to his face. Joey laughed, “Really? Here, too? Is there a place where you aren’t ticklish, Henry?” 

“Don’t say that so loud!” Henry nudged his knee again, slowly turning a bright red, still smiling. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s cute.” 

“It’s silly.” 

“It’s adorable.” Joey smiled and thought for a moment before beginning to lightly tickle the other’s palms. Henry let out a stream of giggles and pulled his hands away, holding them quickly. “See? Adorable? I’m never wrong on things like this. You need to trust me more.” Henry rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat again, folding his arms across his chest. “Feel any better?” 

“A bit,” Henry replied honestly, “Thank you, sugar-bear.” 

“I’ll remember that palm thing, you know, baby-blue.” He reminded, chuckling. Henry smiled and looked up at him. They exchanged a quick kiss, Henry giggling from it, and Joey walked back to the entryway. “I’ll stop by later to see your progress, Mr Stein. And to make sure your hands don’t get cold and sore again.”

“I look forward to it, Mr Drew.”


End file.
